


you are the shiver in my blood and my bones (and i'm growing cold)

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Ark AU, Arranged Marriage, Bladder Control, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Master/Pet, Orgasm Control, Punishment, Sadism, Spanking, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-20 14:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17624558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Bellamy Blake hates anyone from Alpha station on principle. When he's forced into an arranged marriage with Clarke Griffin, he uses it as an opportunity to take his anger out on her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the prompt i filled, so be warned:
> 
> *Arranged marriage is coming back on the ark  
> *Clarke gets paired with Bellamy who hates anyone from Alpha on principle  
> **Bellamy sees this as his chance to get even for his mother being floated  
> **He basically hate rapes her and turns her into his fuck pet  
> ***BP if he lets his friends take a turn on her and Clarke is not happy about   
> ****DBP if Clarke is not allowed to leave the apartment just has to wait for her husband to return   
> **** TBP if he starts to feel bad about it but cant stop   
> *****Anything else filthy and debauched you want to add to it

Bellamy feels numb throughout the marriage ceremony. He says what he’s supposed to, when he’s supposed to. He doesn’t try to act happy about it.

He has no idea why Jaha has decided to enforce arranged marriages. Jaha is a fucking dictator as far as Bellamy is concerned. Not one person Bellamy has spoken to wants this unnecessary control over their lives. Doesn’t the ark limit them enough already, without taking away their rights to choose their own partners? And not only that, but he’s also criminalised adultery and divorce as well. Death do us part indeed.

What Bellamy understands even less, is why he’s been paired with the ark’s precious princess, Clarke Griffin. He would have expected her to be matched with someone wealthy and important, like Wells Jaha, the chancellor’s son himself. Not a lowly janitor with no money and no connections. No opportunities to better himself. Perhaps it’s some kind of punishment for her, instead of getting floated. Bellamy knows she came out of the skybox a month ago. He’s seen her around a lot since then. As far as he’s concerned, she should have been floated.

Clarke is silent as the two of them make their way back to their new living quarters. He’s aware that she keeps glancing at him, but he ignores her. He’s never hated anyone as much as he hates Clarke, except maybe Jaha himself. He’s going to make her life fucking miserable, and he’s going to fucking enjoy it.

He lets her through the door first, and she probably thinks he’s being gentlemanly. Really, he just wants to bar her exit. He shuts the door and locks it.

“Right,” he says, finally looking at her. She’s pretty, at least. Gorgeous, if he’s honest. Long blonde hair, big blue eyes. She’s a walking sex dream. And those tits. Yeah, he’s happy those belong to him. “Time to consummate this marriage.”

Clarke giggles nervously, like she thinks he’s joking. “Maybe we should get to know each other first.”

Bellamy scoffs. “Get to know each other? Listen, I have no interest in getting to know you. I didn’t want this marriage, and I certainly wouldn’t have picked _you_. As far as I’m concerned, the only benefit I’m getting out of this is a regular fuck. So I expect you to perform those wifely duties for me.”

Clarke gapes at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he growls. Clarke flinches. “They obviously put you with me to punish you for something, because they sure as hell aren’t rewarding me. Either that or they want couples to hate each other as much as possible so they won’t fuck and breed more children. But I hope you do get pregnant. And then I hope I get you pregnant again and they float you, just like they did to my mother.”

“Bellamy—”

“Shut up. They’ll float the kid too. Just like they’ll do to my sister in a few months. It should’ve been you.”

Clarke has tears in her eyes now. Bellamy doesn’t feel the least bit sorry for her.

“What did you do, anyway? To get locked up?”

“If I tell you, will you stop being so horrible and actually try to get along with me?”

“Sure,” he lies.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she says. Bellamy shrugs. “I knew something and they thought I’d tell.”

“What?”

“The ark is running out of air.”

Bellamy snorts. The ark is running out of air? Good. They all deserve to die for what they’ve done to him and his family. “Thank you for the blackmail material. Now get on your fucking knees and suck my cock like a good little wife.”

Clarke has the audacity to look shocked by his demand. She shakes her head, crossing her arms defensively. Bellamy steps towards her, backing her against the far wall so she can’t escape.

“Listen here, princess. This is how it’s going to be. I’m your husband now, and I will fuck you whenever I want to, got it? If you refuse, I’ll have to use force. If you try to escape, or tell anyone, I will tell everyone the ark is running out of air. And they’ll know you told me and they’ll float the both of us. Understand?”

Clarke says nothing, tears streaming down her face. Bellamy grabs her jaw, pressing tightly with his fingers and thumb, forcing her to look at him.

“I said, understand?”

Clarke nods reluctantly. He lets her go and steps back.

“You’re a monster,” Clarke spits.

“Honey, you have no idea,” Bellamy sneers. “Now get on your fucking knees.”

She doesn’t move right away, so Bellamy puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her to the ground. She sinks to her knees, a dazed expression on her face, like she can’t quite believe this is happening. Bellamy drops his pants and underwear, his huge cock springing free. Clarke eyes it, looking like she might be sick. Bellamy pushes his hips forward, rubbing his cock against her cheek. Clarke whimpers, closing her eyes.

“I know it’s a lot,” Bellamy whispers. “But I know you can handle it. You have no choice. Open your mouth.”

Tears well in Clarke eyes, but she obeys quickly this time, dropping her jaw, knowing she can’t escape her fate. Bellamy wastes no time in shoving his cock into her open mouth, pushing in as far as he can go, until his pubes fill her nostrils, and his balls bump against her chin. She gags, choking for air, trying to pull away. Bellamy grabs her by the hair and holds her head in place until she stops resisting. She breathes through her nose and her throat opens to take his cock.

“That’s it,” Bellamy says. “I knew you could do it.” Clarke glares at him. “You’re very prissy for someone with a mouth full of cock. Not to worry, I’ll break you down eventually.”

He stares down at her, holding her head against his crotch. He loosens his grip, pulling back, but only slightly.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Suck my dick, bitch,” he snarls. Sure, he could just fuck her face. And he probably will. But it’s more humiliating for her if she actually has to do some of the work. “And you better make it good.”

Clarke makes a sound. A sob maybe. Hard to tell with his cock in her mouth. Not that he cares anyway. The more she hates it, the better. Bellamy lets her hair go entirely, and Clarke pops his dick from her mouth.

“Do I have to?” she says. She sounds weak and pitiful. Just how he wants her.

“Yes.”

Clarke sobs again. She complies though, much to his delight. She leans forward teasing the tip of his cock with her tongue, licking up the precum. She sucks the head into her mouth, then lets him go again, leaning in further to lick his balls, then drag her tongue along the base of his cock before taking the whole thing into her mouth. Fuck. She knows what she’s doing.

“You’ve sucked cock before, haven’t you, princess?” Clarke doesn’t answer. Bellamy grabs her hair, pulls her head up to look at him. “Haven’t you?”

“Yes.” It’s muffled, her mouth being full of cock and all, but it’s definitely a yes.

“Well. I didn’t know I had a little slut on my hands.” He lets her go again. She lets his cock fall from her mouth.

“I’m not a slut,” she says hotly.

Bellamy laughs. “You are. And if you don’t know it yet, you will.” Clarke shakes her head. Bellamy shrugs. He doesn’t care either way. Her opinions mean nothing to him. “Enough teasing,” he says. He grabs her hair again, pulling her head back, shoving his cock into her mouth when she gasps in pain.

Bellamy doesn’t hold back now, holding her head in place and fucking her mouth with abandon. Tears stream from Clarke’s face, but she takes his cock down her throat easily. Her soft, full lips feel amazing around his cock and he’s close to coming within minutes. He grunts, thrusting against her face, feeling his balls slap against her chin. Her comes in her mouth, groaning, and she whimpers as she takes it on her tongue. He pulls his cock from her mouth, quickly grabbing her cheeks and squeezing when she looks ready to spit his come onto the floor.

“Swallow it.” She shakes her head, staring up at him defiantly. “Swallow it, or you can lick it up off the floor with your tongue after.” She swallows, but doesn’t lose the fire from her eyes. He’s not worried. He’ll extinguish that soon enough. And he’ll have fun doing it.

“There’s a good little slut,” Bellamy says, smiling menacingly. “Now, I think it’s time to get you out of those clothes. I’m ready to see my wife’s tits, and that pretty little pussy.”

“No.”

Bellamy snorts. “No? Princess, I don’t think you understand. You don’t get to say no anymore. This isn’t up to you. You’ll be naked in the next thirty seconds, whether you strip your clothes off yourself or I have to tear them off you.”

Clarke doesn’t move. Bellamy grabs her by her hair and drags her to her feet while she gasps in pain. He shoves her against the wall behind her and cups her pussy roughly. Clarke squirms, more tears forming in her eyes.

“Please don’t,” she whispers. Bellamy yanks her pants down, her panties with them. Clarke sobs. Bellamy rubs his hand over her mound, revelling in her disgust, her humiliation. She tries to get away from him, but he has her pinned to the wall. There’s nowhere for her to go.

“Hmm,” Bellamy hums. “A little more hair down there than I usually like. But we can fix that later.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, princess. I hate you too.” He grabs her shirt at the neckline and tears it down the middle before pulling it off her completely. She’s got a heavy-duty bra underneath, too difficult to tear, so he just pulls it down roughly, her tits bouncing heavily as he exposes them. “That’s better,” he says, grabbing her tit and squeezing it in his hand. “This is how a slut should look.”

Clarke’s face is red, turned away from him, humiliated at what’s happening to her, unable to do anything about it except cry silently. Sick of standing, his cock starting to harden again, Bellamy picks Clarke up and throws her over his shoulder, eliciting a squeal from her. He kicks his pants and boxers away, and she struggles against him as he carries her through to the bedroom. It’s futile. He’s bigger than her, stronger. He rubs her bare ass with his hand, slips a finger between her cheeks, feels her tense as he rubs over her asshole.

He throws her down on the bed, on her ass, and before she can wriggle away from him, he grips onto her pants and panties, dragging them off and discarding them on the floor. He flips her over, unclips her bra and throws that away too. He removes his own shirt, and then he’s on top of her, pinning her down, barring her escape, though as of yet she hasn’t been dumb enough to try. Perhaps she senses things could get a lot more violent should she try to run.

Bellamy presses his fingers into her slit. He almost laughs out loud. She’s fucking _wet_. Dripping, practically.

“Enjoying this, princess?”

“No.”

“Your pussy says different. See? I knew you were a slut. Which bit did you like the most? Choking on my cock? You like it when I call you a slut? Or when I ripped your clothes off?”

“Stop it. Shut up.”

Bellamy laughs. “When was the last time you had a cock, princess? Before you went to solitary? Bet you thought about cock every night when you were in there. Well, you’re in luck. You’re finally going to get it.”

“Please,” Clarke sobs.

“Please what?”

“Please don’t rape me.”

“It’s not rape if you ask for it.”

Clarke sobs. “Why would I?”

Bellamy presses his lips to her ear. “Where do you want my cock?”

“I don’t want it,” Clarke says, her tears making her voice wobble.

“If you don’t choose, I’ll choose for you. And your ass is looking pretty good.”

Clarke sobs harder. “Not my ass. Please, not my ass.”

“So where do you want it?”

Clarke shakes underneath him, crying almost silently. “My pussy,” she whispers. He can here the shame in her voice. He’s completely hard again, getting off on her total embarrassment, her extreme distress.

“Tell me what you want.” 

“I want your cock in my pussy.”

“I know you fucking do, you dirty slut.” He shoves his cock into her. He’s too big for her, but it doesn’t stop him. She moans, in pain, mostly. “I know you’re going to enjoy this,” Bellamy growls into her ear. “But this is for my pleasure only. Don’t you dare fucking come.”

The truth is, he couldn’t care less if she comes or not. Whatever humiliates her the most. He just wants her to know he doesn’t give a fuck about her, or her pleasure.

He fucks her brutally, pressing her hard into the mattress. He pulls her hair, digs his fingers into her hip, knowing there will be bruises there later. She’s still crying, but it only spurs him on. She deserves this. It’s what she gets for being an uptight Alpha station bitch.

Her cunt is hot and wet, clenching around him, her body betraying her. She can cry and fight him all she wants. Her pussy knows what she really needs. She needs to be fucked. Forcefully taken, like he’s doing to her now.

He slams into her, not letting up. She moans. Pleasure, this time, he thinks. Her pussy pulses on his cock, and she squirming beneath him. Fucking hell, she’s trying not to come. She’s trying so hard, but despite her best efforts, her body is responding to him.

“No,” she moans. “No, no, no.”

Bellamy would laugh if he wasn’t so close to coming himself. This must be mortifying for her. To orgasm while he rapes her. It’s better than he could have imagined. Sure, he wants to hurt her and torture her and degrade her. But to know she secretly likes it? That’s a gift he could never have anticipated.

She pants and writhes, trying to hold off her orgasm. It’s no use though. Her will power is no match for his massive cock, hammering against her g-spot, giving her exactly what she needs. She comes, and he can hear the shame in her moan. He thinks she might be crying still too.

Her tight pussy clamping down around his cock is too much for him, and he comes too, spurting his load inside her cunt. He collapses on top of her, letting his weight crush her.

“I thought I told you not to come.” Clarke sniffles pathetically. “But what could I expect from a little slut like you anyway? Of course you’re going to come when you’ve got a cock in you. You can’t help it. You crave cock in your cunt. You need it more than you need food.”

He lifts himself off her, his cock sliding out of her pussy. Come dribbles out of her used cunt and onto the sheets. He flips her over again. Her face is red and tearstained. He straddles her, waving his soft cock in her face.

“Clean it up.”

Clarke whimpers. Bellamy drags his cock across her face, spreading his come and hers all over her cheek. Clarke opens her mouth reluctantly, her tongue poking out to lap at his cock, licking him clean.

“There’s a good little wife. Now go and get yourself cleaned up.”

Clarke doesn’t hesitate, rolling off the bed and practically racing out of the room towards the bathroom. He’s not worried about her running off, not when she’s butt-naked and dripping with come. Plus, he really does think his threat to tell everyone that the ark is running out of air hit home. He has nothing to lose, why wouldn’t he make good on it should he need to? Clarke seems to sense that. He’s a desperate man. Sure, she could tell everyone he raped her. He’d get floated for that. But he’d made sure he took her down with him.

She’s gone for a long time. Probably trying to get his come out of her. Wash the feeling of being a dirty slut from her skin. He eventually gets up to go and get her. Maybe he underestimated her. Maybe she really has run off.

He finds her curled up on the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping out here.”

“No. You’ll sleep in bed with your husband.”

“You’re not my husband.”

“I am. There’s nothing you can do about that now, short of getting us both floated.”

“You can’t make me. As if you would risk getting floated just to control where I sleep.”

“I have other ways to control you,” Bellamy says. “Now, go get into bed like a good wife, or I will rape your tight little asshole, hear me?”

Clarke whimpers.

“How about I make you a deal? You do everything you’re told, be an obedient little wife for me, and I will leave your asshole alone. Unless of course you beg me to fuck you there.”

Clarke glares at him. “I will never do that.”

“We’ll see,” Bellamy smiles wickedly. “Do we have a deal?” Clarke nods reluctantly. “Good. Now come to bed.”

Bellamy sleeps through the night, which is lucky for Clarke. Had he woken, he would have shoved his cock in her, awake or not. When he does wake up, it’s to the sound of Clarke opening the small closet in the bedroom. She hasn’t put any lights on, but he can vaguely see her in the darkness, pulling clothes out.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he rasps. Clarke flinches. She doesn’t turn around, just pulls a shirt over her head.

“I have to go to work.”

“Take that off,” Bellamy growls. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I have a job to do.”

Bellamy gets up off the bed, switches the light on and strides over to her. He yanks the pair of pants out of her hands. “Your only job is to have your holes available for me whenever I want to use them. Your _job_ is to be my personal whore. Which means you need to be here, naked, at all times.”

Clarke hesitates. She shrinks away from him. She’s scared of him already. Good. “They’ll miss me if I don’t show up. My mom will worry. They’ll come looking for me.”

Bellamy realises she’s right. He thinks it over for a moment. “Get dressed,” he says, giving her back her pants. He reaches into the closet for his own clothes.

“You’re coming?” Clarke asks. Her face is white.

“We’re going down to the medical wing to tell your mom you quit. You’ve decided you want to be a housewife.”

“She’ll never believe me.”

“So make her believe you. If you fail, I’ll drag you back here and fuck your ass until you can’t walk straight.”

Clarke swallows. She looks like she wants to say no, to defy him. But she also seems to sense that he’s not joking. These are no idle threats. He means what he says. She says nothing, but she finishes getting dressed.

Bellamy grabs her hand as they walk out of their living quarters together. To the casual observer it might seem sweet, loving even. But his grip is tight, reminding her that she’s his and that she better not try anything, or there will be consequences.

Abby is already with a patient when they arrive, but as soon as she’s done, she calls them through.

“You two seem to be getting along,” she notes, looking at their joined hands. Bellamy smiles at his wife.

“I was very lucky to be paired with such a wonderful person,” he says.

“Me too,” Clarke agrees quickly. “That’s actually what I need to talk to you about. Since being married, I’ve realised that what would make me happiest is to be a housewife.”

“A housewife?” Abby says sceptically. The truth is, there isn’t really such a thing on the ark. Everyone has a job to do, a duty to fulfil. But Bellamy figures if anyone can get away with it, it’s Clarke Griffin, spoilt princess.

“Yes. I never really liked dealing with sick people. And it would give me a chance to focus on my art.”

That one surprises Bellamy. He didn’t know she was an artist, and throwing that in there actually makes her whole argument seem believable.

“Clarke, sweetie,” Abby says. “Art is a hobby. Here on the ark you can’t be an artist as a job.”

“Please, Mom. After what happened with Dad…” Clarke trails off, and when Bellamy glances at her again, she’s actually tearing up. When she speaks again her voice is shaky and watery. “And then being in the skybox for so long. I just need some time.”

Bellamy’s eyes dart back to Abby. Is she buying this? One look at the mother’s sympathetic face tells him she is.

“Okay,” Abby finally says. “Okay, sweetie. Let’s give it a month, okay? And then maybe you’ll want to be busy again. Help people, like you used to.”

Clarke glances at Bellamy. He nods. That’s good enough for now. Who knows what the fuck will happen in the next month? Maybe they’ll all be dead.

Bellamy practically drags Clarke back to their quarters. He shuts the door, then turns to her, smirking approvingly.

“You did good, princess. Almost like you really want to be my personal whore.”

“I don’t want you to touch me, asshole,” Clarke spits. “I did what you asked.”

“Asshole?” Bellamy tuts. “Is that any way to address your husband? Your master?” Clarke glowers at him. “No, I think from now on you can call me sir, or you can call me master. Your choice. Well?”

Clarke thinks, deciding which one is less degrading, probably. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, let me reiterate the ground rules for you, plus let you know a few new ones. You do whatever I tell you, or I fuck your ass. If you tell anyone what goes on here, the whole ark will find out we’re running out of air. You do not to anything without my permission. Eat, drink, sleep, piss. You ask me first. I expect total access to your body at all times. If you struggle, it will only make it worse. Am I understood?”

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut. “I don’t want to do this,” she whispers. “Please. Please don’t do this to me.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want. I own you. You stuck up, Alpha station bitch. You deserve all this and more for what your people did to my family.”

She’s crying again. Fucking pathetic. “That wasn’t me,” Clarke sobs. “I’m not like them, I—”

Bellamy lunges forward, grabbing her by the throat, cutting her off. She looks terrified. “Bullshit,” he spits. “You’re all the same. Now take your fucking clothes off and show me your cunt. My cock is hard and I need to come in your whore pussy.”

He lets her go, and she peels off her clothes, her whole body shaking, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Bellamy spins her around and shoves her naked body against the wall, squashing her tits, making her whimper. He puts his fingers to her slit. She’s not wet this time. He doesn’t really want to take her dry, it’s much more pleasurable for him if she’s at least a little wet. And he knows it humiliates her so much to be turned on by him.

“Come on, little slut,” he says. His arm snakes around her and his fingers find her clit. “I know you can get wet for me. I know how much you crave cock. How much you crave come. Your little prudish act doesn’t fool me. You showed me last night. When you orgasmed, remember? It felt good to have my cock pounding into you, didn’t it, slut? Hm, didn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Clarke whispers. She catches on fast. He toys with her clit and she tries unsuccessfully to suppress another whimper.

“That’s right, you like that, don’t you? Does it make you ashamed that you like being touched by me? I think you get off on being humiliated. I think you like being tortured and abused. Your pussy does, anyway.”

He moves his fingers to her entrance, and he can feel her getting wet now. That’s good enough for him.

“Good girl,” he says. “I knew you could do it. Now stay still while I fuck you.”

He hastily pulls his pants down, and doesn’t hesitate before shoving his cock into her pussy. He doesn’t both trying to last, or to make her come. She needs to know that she doesn’t get to experience pleasure unless he allows it. He comes inside her, then wipes his sticky cock across her lower back before tucking his cock away.

“Right,” he says. “I have a shift to get to. You may eat and drink while I’m gone.”

Clarke turns around to face him. “Sir?” she asks meekly. “May I clean myself up and use the bathroom?”

Bellamy considers. “You may relieve yourself, but not clean yourself.”

Clarke’s face burns with embarrassment. Bellamy likes the though of her having his come on her back and dripping down her thighs for the rest of the day.

“Thank you, sir,” she says. Bellamy is delighted. He didn’t even tell her to say that.

“I’m leaving. Aren’t you going to give your husband a goodbye kiss?”

Clarke looks miserable about it, but she leans up to him and gives him a peck on the lips.

“I’ll see you when I get home,” Bellamy says.

 

-

 

Bellamy hates being a janitor. Cleaning up after people who treat him like shit, who wouldn’t give a fuck if he lived or died. He has a trainee with him now, not that it takes much to train someone how to mop a floor. John Murphy is the kid’s name, recently given a second chance after being pardoned for whatever crime it was he committed when he was under eighteen. Bellamy can’t remember what he did, he wasn’t listening. Doesn’t really care about the tragic back story.

Murphy basically idolises Bellamy though, and that, Bellamy likes. It’s probably because Bellamy spends half their shift talking shit about Alpha station and how one day, those bastards are going to get what’s coming to them. Murphy seems to agree with the sentiment.

After his shift, Bellamy heads straight back to his quarters. His cock twitches when he sees Clarke lying naked on the couch. She sits up when he walks in, eyeing him warily, wondering what torture he’s going to inflict upon her next. His eyes fall to the patch of blonde hair between her legs. Time to do something about that.

“Get into the bathroom,” Bellamy tells her. “Fill the sink with water and get out your razor.”

Clarke gets up from the couch obediently and walks into the bathroom. Bellamy sheds his janitor’s overalls and joins her a minute later. She’s standing by the sink, holding a razor. Bellamy takes the razor from her hand.

“I can do it myself,” Clarke tells him.

“Scared I’ll hurt you?”

“Yes.”

For some reason, that annoys Bellamy. He’s not sure why. He’s made it his mission to make her scared of him. But he wants her to know that he can be gentle too.

“I want to do it,” Bellamy says. “I want to make sure it’s done right.”

He picks a cloth up from beside the sink and dips it in the warm water. He drops to his knees in front of her. He uses the cloth to clean the dried come from her thighs and pussy first. Then he lathers up the hair between her legs with soap, and carefully uses the razor to shave her bare. He’s careful, doesn’t want to nick his favourite part of her. She stays perfectly still as he does the job. He wonders if she’s off somewhere else, pretending this isn’t happening.

When he has her perfectly hairless, he rinses the razor one last time, then uses the cloth to wipe her pussy clean.

“I want it to remain like this at all times,” Bellamy says. Clarke nods. Keeping her pussy shaved is probably the least of her worries. Or maybe she’s not really listening at all, maybe nodding is just her default response to him, giving him the answer he wants.

Keeping his eyes on hers, still on his knees in front of her, Bellamy presses a finger against her clit. Clarke whimpers. She’s wet again. Bellamy wonders what she was thinking about as he shaved her.

He plays with her clit, circling it, pinching it, rubbing it, until she’s panting, her legs spread wide open, clutching the bathroom sink.

“Now, I know I gave you a free pass last time you came without permission,” Bellamy says, continuing to finger her clit. “But if it happens again, there will be consequences. You have to ask me if you want to come. Okay?”

Clarke moans. Her thighs tremble. Bellamy pulls his hand away.

“Do you want to come?”

Clarke bites her lip. Of course she wants to come. She’s so close, to stop now would just be cruel. But he knows she won’t ask. She’s still too proud for that. She shakes her head.

“No? So be it.” Bellamy gets to his feet and pulls the plug from the sink. “Repeat back to me the rules I’ve just given you. I want to make sure you were listening.”

“Keep my pussy shaven. Don’t come without permission.”

“Good girl,” Bellamy smiles. “Now, do you need to use the bathroom before I fuck you?” he asks. He’s feeling generous. She’s been so compliant.

Clarke shakes her head.

“No? Don’t be proud, princess. I’ve been gone eight hours, you must need to go.”

Clarke shakes her head, her face turning scarlet. Bellamy narrows his eyes.

“Did you go without my permission?” he growls.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke whispers. “You weren’t here, I thought it would be okay.”

Bellamy sneers at her. “How is it that you can’t seem to follow a few simple rules? You fucking dumb bitch. If I’m not here to ask, you don’t go.”

Tears well in her eyes. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“I know you won’t. We had a deal, and you broke the rules. So now I’m going to fuck your ass.” He grabs her by the arm, his fingertips pressing into her arm so hard they’ll leave bruises.

“Please, Bellamy. Sir. Please not my ass,” Clarke cries as Bellamy drags her into the living area and over to the couch. Bellamy ignores her pleas.

“Bend over.”

Clarke shakes her head. Bellamy grabs her roughly and spins her around before bending her over the back of the couch. Clarke’s hands fly to her backside, covering her exposed asshole.

“Please don’t,” she sobs. “It will hurt.”

“That’s the point,” he says. But he knows that once he starts fucking her ass, it becomes less of a threat, less of a punishment. Especially because he’s sure that she’ll like it, eventually, if not at first. “Give me another option,” he says.

“What?”

“How would you like to be punished?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“You have ten seconds to come up with a suitable alternative, or my cock is going in your ass dry. One. Two. Three. Four—”

“Spank me,” Clarke says. Bellamy can’t help a lecherous grin from spreading across his face.

“What did you say?”

“Spank me,” she repeats. “Spank my ass instead of fucking it, sir. Is that a suitable alternative?”

Bellamy considers. “It will do. Move your hands.” Clarke lets her arms fall to her sides. Bellamy doesn’t give her any warning before her brings his hand down on her pretty white ass cheek. Clarke squeals when he makes contact. The sound of his hard hand hitting her soft flesh fills the room. He hits her again. And again, and again. He doesn’t let up, hitting her in the same spot over and over, making her ass cheek a brilliant red.

“Please sir, it hurts,” Clarke sobs. He wonders if she’s regretting her choice. She has no idea when he’ll stop spanking her. He doesn’t know himself, just knows he’s angry and he needs to punish her for disobeying him. He switches to the other cheek, and spanks her until both ass cheeks are the same colour, a fiery, stinging red.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he says gruffly.

“Yes, sir,” Clarke cries. “I won’t do it again.”

“What won’t you do again?”

“Disobey you.”

“Specifically, slut. What won’t you do?”

“Piss without permission.”

“That’s fucking right, you won’t.”

He flips her over and pulls her upright before shoving her to her knees. Spanking her had gotten his cock straining against his pants, and he wants to cover her in come to finish off the punishment. He doesn’t want her to enjoy it though, so mouth it is. He pulls his cock out, stroking it in front of her face. She drops her mouth open without being asked to, and he shoves his cock in. He holds her head in place and fucks into her skull. She doesn’t try to fight it, in fact, he thinks she’s actually sucking him, using her tongue to help get him off.

“You fucking dirty slut,” Bellamy laughs. “You actually like having your face fucked, don’t you? Well, let’s see how you like being covered in my come.”

It only takes him a few more thrusts, and then he’s pulling out as his come shoots out of him, onto her tongue first, then he aims at her tits, coating the glorious things in his semen. Clarke actually looks shocked, those big blue eyes growing round, making her look almost virtuous. That is if she wasn’t naked and covered in come. She swallows the glob of come on her tongue.

Bellamy swings his now soft cock towards her mouth, and Clarke licks him clean. She looks almost eager, he thinks. Eager to please her master. Eager not to be fucked in the ass.

Bellamy tucks his cock away and walks into the bedroom, leaving Clarke on her knees behind the couch. He goes to the closet and pulls out all of Clarke’s clothes, underwear and everything. She won’t be needing them.

“Stay here,” he tells her as he heads for the door.

“Where are you going?” Clarke asks.

“Don’t question me.”

 

-

You can get almost anything on the ark, for a price. The things he wants aren’t illegal, but if he went through the proper channels to get them, he’d be asked a million questions. So he does a deal with Nygel, who doesn’t bat an eye at his request. He hands over Clarke’s clothes, including a watch he’d found on her nightstand, and within an hour he has what he wants.

A few locks. A metal bucket. A collar, a leash. Nygel had given him a knowing look when he asked for those last two. She’s probably imagining the kinky sex he’s having with his new wife. If she knew the half of it.

Bellamy wasn’t really expecting to get everything he asked for, but he supposes extra clothes are worth more to people than some seemingly random household items. Maybe it was the watch that did it. It had looked kind of valuable.

He heads back to his quarters with his new acquisitions in hand. Clarke is still kneeling on the floor with his come all over her chest. He puts the bucket and locks down by the door and walks over to her with the collar. She backs away from him, understanding that he means to put it around her neck.

“Stay still,” Bellamy says, crouching down beside her.

“Don’t put that on me. I’m not a dog.”

“You may as well be. Stay still or I’ll have to punish you again.”

Clarke whines but she lets him put the collar around her neck. He clips the leash to it.

“There we go,” Bellamy smiles. “My little fuck pet.”

Clarke looks like she’s about to cry again. Bellamy drops the leash and walks back over to the bucket, picking it up off the floor.

“You’ve lost bathroom privileges. From now on you will piss and shit in this bucket. You will call it the piss bucket, and it is your job to make sure you clean it after you’ve used it. You may not use toilet paper, and I expect you to wash your ass in the shower right away if you shit.”

Clarke stares at him, her mouth hanging open. She knows he means it. He knows how humiliating this must be for her. He revels in it.

Bellamy takes the bucket and puts it in the bathroom next to the toilet. Next he gets the locks and fastens one to the bathroom door, one to the bedroom door, and one to the closet in the bedroom, so she can’t decide to put on some of his clothes. He has the only keys to the locks. She’s his prisoner, his plaything.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says, her voice shaking. Bellamy flinches.

“Don’t say my name.” The sound of his name on her lips hits some nerve in him, like she’s reminding him that she’s a real person. That _he’s_ a real person, and not this monster he’s pretending to be. Except that he is that monster. He wants to be that monster. It’s the only way he can feel some semblance of control in his life.

“Sir,” Clarke says. “Please. I’ll be good. I’ll let you fuck me. Please don’t treat me like this.”

“Enough! I’m going to go and get our rations for tonight. Go and wait in the bedroom.”

Clarke goes to get to her feet, looking absolutely miserable.

“No,” Bellamy says. “Crawl.”

Clarke falls back to her knees. She’s not crying, but Bellamy suspects she will when he’s gone. She turns on her hands and knees, and Bellamy watches her ass as she crawls towards to bedroom, defeated.

He strides after her, slamming the door behind her and turning the key in the lock.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke loathes herself. Almost as much as she loathes Bellamy. He’s taken her clothes, her freedom, her dignity. She’s locked in her bedroom, naked, covered in his come, a collar around her neck like she’s nothing but an animal. And all she wants to do is slide her hand between her legs and get herself off, like she’s the slut Bellamy’s been saying she is.

She hates that her cunt throbs every time he calls her a slut. That she gets wet when he gets rough with her, when he treats her like dirt. Her thighs are covered in her arousal from when he’d spanked her.

He’d been surprisingly tender when he’d shaved her, and then when he’d fingered her after. She’d thought maybe he had a soft side, that she could appeal to that and eventually get him to like her enough to treat her with some respect. Now she knows she was wrong. And she knows this is all her own fault.

She wasn’t a virgin when she married Bellamy, which she’s thankful for, but she had only had sex a couple of times. With Wells, and they both had no clue what they were doing, but they trusted each other enough to work it out together. Clarke hadn’t overly enjoyed it, but at least it wasn’t painful and humiliating. She didn’t come then, and she’d never made herself come. She had her first orgasm while Bellamy raped her with his huge cock, while she desperately tried to hold back. She feels a mixture of shame, anger, and arousal when she thinks about it. She tries not to think about it.  

Bellamy’s a little softer when he comes back with food, but he doesn’t rescind any of his rules.

“Are you going to be good?” Bellamy asks when he opens the bedroom door. Clarke nods. Bellamy picks her leash up from the floor and leads her out into the living area. He sits on the couch, but leaves her on her knees on the floor. He hands her the rations he brought her and puts the TV on.

When he’s done eating, he undoes his pants and gets his cock out. It’s hard and bulging. Clarke eyes it, feels a surge of wetness between her legs. She hates that she’s attracted to him, that the sight of his cock turns her on. She squeezes her thighs together, hoping he won’t notice. Maybe she really is a slut.

Bellamy tugs on her leash. “Hop on my cock, slut.”

Clarke tries not to look too eager as she climbs onto his lap. But he knows. He knows how much she wants his cock. She can see it in his smug smile as she lowers herself onto his length, facing him. It stretches her wide, and she feels so full. She likes that feeling.

“You take my cock so well,” Bellamy says, and Clarke blushes, as if he’s really paying her a compliment. “It’s what you were made for. And you’ll never be good for anything else. Just taking cock, like the slut you are.”

She doesn’t try to argue, it will only get her in trouble. She sits in his lap, cock inside her, waiting for him to fuck her.

“I’m tired from working all day,” he says. “You’re going to have to do the work.”

Clarke gives him a pitiful look. She’d much rather him just fuck her. She wants to be passive, wants him to overpower her, make her feel weak, like there’s nothing she can do. It’s humiliating to be on top of him, to have to be the one to fuck him, get him off, complicit in her own dehumanisation. But if she refuses, she knows the consequences will be worse. She doesn’t know how he can possibly make her life any more miserable, but she’s sure he can think of something. His mind is dark and cruel.

Clarke rolls her hips, feeling his cock twitch inside her. God, it feels good. Why does it feel so good? She should feel disgusted, violated. And she does, to an extent, and that only makes her want it more.

“You can do better than that,” Bellamy says. “I want to see those tits bouncing. Fucking huge, they are. Should have known what a slut you were as soon as I saw them.”

Clarke bounces up and down on his cock, pounding herself on his length, feeling each thrust like an explosion through her nerves. Her tits jiggle wildly, and Bellamy leans forward to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Clarke nearly comes. She gasps, squeezes all her muscles, trying to hold back. She can’t come without permission. And she sure as hell isn’t going to beg him to let her come.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, princess?” Bellamy asks, popping her nipple out of his mouth. Clarke shakes her head. He grabs her nipple and twists. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Clarke pants.

“You want to come, don’t you?”

Clarke whimpers. She shakes her head again.

“Stubborn little bitch. Look at you, bouncing up and down on my cock, desperate to come. Such a fucking slut. What are you?”

Clarke sobs, half out of desperation to come, half out of shame. She won’t answer. She won’t say it.

Bellamy grabs her nipple again, tighter, twisting harder. It hurts, yet it just gets her that much closer to coming.

“Admit what you are, and I’ll let you come,” Bellamy growls. “I won’t make you beg for it. I’ll let you stop. I’ll flip you over and finish the job myself and you can pretend you don’t want it. Just admit what you are.”

Clarke whimpers, still bouncing on his cock. She’s getting tired, and he doesn’t seem close to coming at all. For some reason, that hurts her self-esteem. How can he sit there so composed, while she bounces and squirms on his lap, about to burst from the pressure? If she doesn’t come, she’ll cry.

“What are you?”

“I’m a slut,” Clarke whispers.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I’m a slut,” Clarke says, louder. “I’m a dirty slut.”

“That’s right,” Bellamy grunts. He grabs her ass, and in one fluid motion he has her on her back on the couch, and he’s fucking her furiously. Perhaps he hadn’t been as calm and collected as he made it seem. It only takes him a few thrusts before he spills his come inside her. But even though Clarke relishes the feeling of having his come inside her, even though she’s so close, even though Bellamy has given her permission, she doesn’t come.

If Bellamy notices, he doesn’t care. He gets up and heads to the bathroom to clean his cock. Clarke’s pussy aches. She yearns for him to put his cock back in her and make her come. His come dribbles out of her pussy and she clenches her thighs together. She knows if she gets it on the couch, she’ll have to clean it up. She also knows better than to ask if she’s allowed to clean herself. He’ll tell her what he wants her to do, and when. So she waits on the couch for him until he walks back in and tells her to go to bed. He’s done with her tonight.

Clarke slides off the couch to the floor and crawls back to the bedroom, trying to keep his come from leaking out of her pussy, to no avail. She imagines what she must look like, crawling on the floor, her pussy red and swollen, come on her thighs, on her tits, in her pussy. If anyone saw her like this, they’d never doubt she was a slut.

She wakes up in the middle of the night, on her stomach, with Bellamy on top of her, his cock inside her. He’s fucking her while she’s asleep, not even bothering to try to be gentle. She spreads her legs to give him better access, barely even registering what she’s doing, just knowing she needs his cock deep in her cunt. He comes inside her, then pats her on the ass before collapsing back onto the bed to go back to sleep. Clarke lies awake in the puddle of come, tears in her eyes.

 

**-**

Bellamy gives her strict instructions before he goes to work the next day. She’s to clean their living quarters, particularly the sheets. Then she’s to wait in the bedroom for him to return.

He lets her eat, and then use her bucket before he goes, and then washes her clean in the shower. It’s a relief not to be covered in come. He puts a bowl of water on the ground in the bedroom for her to drink out of, and then he leaves. He doesn’t even try to fuck her. Perhaps he wore himself out yesterday.

She does what’s asked of her. She washes the sheets first, in the shower, because she’s not about to crawl naked to the communal laundry, and neither of the sinks are big enough. She cleans the rest of the space in a couple of hours. Then she lets herself relax, something she can’t do when Bellamy’s around. It’s nice actually, to lie on the couch and watch a movie without the threat of being fucked. She feels like her life has gotten progressively worse over the last year. First her dad, then being locked in solitary. Now this.

She still hasn’t spoken to Wells since he got her dad floated. He’s given up trying. She wonders what he would think of her now. If she’d forgiven him, would he come and visit her? Maybe realise what Bellamy is doing to her and save her?

Even if not him, someone has to realise eventually, right? Someone will miss her, realise they haven’t seen her in a while and come looking for her. Her mom maybe. But then, her mom is so busy all the time. And Clarke doesn’t really have any friends. Wells was it. Deep down she knows no one is coming to save her. She’s going to be Bellamy’s fuck toy for the rest of her life, however long that may be.

She retreats to the bedroom when the movie is over, just in case Bellamy comes home early and decides to punish her. She laps out of the bowl on the ground, thankful there is no one around to witness her humiliation.

As the minutes tick by, she starts to realise she needs to pee. Not badly, yet. But Bellamy won’t be home for another couple of hours. She tells herself she’s okay, she can hold it. If Bellamy finds out she peed without his permission again, there will be no saving her ass from him.

After an hour, she starts to feel uncomfortable. She tries to sit in a position that won’t put any pressure on her bladder. She squeezes her thighs together, trying to think about something else, anything else. But she’s not supposed to leave the bedroom, and there isn’t anything else to do in here, other than think and drink water.

It starts to hurt after a while, holding it in. She presses her thighs tighter, wondering if she has the nerve to go and use the bathroom. If Bellamy’s punishment for her will be worse than this feeling. Maybe she can convince him to just spank her again, that wasn’t so bad. In fact, she kind of liked it. But she knows the chances of that are low. So she holds it. She holds it even though her bladder hurts and with every minute that passes she gets closer to wetting herself.

She tells herself Bellamy will be home soon and he’ll let her use the bucket. Tomorrow she’ll just have to drink less so she doesn’t have to pee as badly.

She listens carefully for any sound of Bellamy, and finally, she hears the front door open. She expects he’ll come straight to her to check if she’s been good or not. The door closes. Footsteps, and then—voices?

Clarke’s stomach drops. Bellamy isn’t alone. He has someone with him, another man, by the sound of it. She hears the TV turn on, and while she’s relieved the two of them aren’t coming to see her, it also means she can’t ask Bellamy if she can use the bathroom. She’s really desperate now. She crosses her legs and cups her pussy, trying so hard to hold it in. She whines quietly.

She weighs up her options. One: go out into the living room and ask Bellamy if she can use the bathroom. Two: stay here and piss all over the floor.

She has no idea who Bellamy’s friend is, who she’d be exposing herself to, embarrassing herself in front of. She’d have to be naked in front of someone who isn’t Bellamy, and it could be _anyone_. She doesn’t know if she can bear the humiliation.

But if she wets herself here, Bellamy will make her clean it up. She remembers when he threatened to make her clean his come up off the floor with her tongue. What if he made her do that with a puddle of her own piss? That would be worse.

Making her decision, bracing herself for the humiliation, Clarke pulls down on the door handle and lets the door swing open. She sits in the doorway, her face already flaming, but her desperation to pee outweighs her embarrassment. She can just see the back of the couch from here, and the top of Bellamy’s head, and his friend’s head.

“Sir?” she calls, her voice shaking. “May I use the bathroom?” She can’t bring herself to call it the piss bucket in front of Bellamy’s friend.

“Ask properly,” Bellamy says without turning around. His friend glances over the back of the couch, taking in a naked, collared Clarke, sitting there on the floor. The friend looks to Bellamy. He looks familiar, but Clarke can’t place him at this point.

“Sir,” Clarke says. She swallows. Her bladder feels like it’s about to burst. “May I please use the piss bucket?”

The friend snorts with laughter. Clarke wants to die.

“In a minute.”

Clarke whimpers. She can’t hold it another minute. “Please, sir,” she begs. She feels like she’s about to cry. “I can’t hold it any longer.”

Bellamy huffs in annoyance, pausing the TV program. “You should have asked sooner.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bellamy gets up off the couch, and Clarke thinks he’s going to grab her leash and take her to the bathroom. But he goes to the bathroom without her, and returns carrying the bucket. He puts it down in front of the couch. Clarke blanches.

“You may go,” he says, sitting back on the couch. Clarke wants to argue. She doesn’t want to piss into a bucket in front of Bellamy’s friend. She doesn’t even like doing it in front of Bellamy. But if she doesn’t, she’s going to piss herself any second. “Hurry up, you dumb slut, before you piss yourself.”

She crawls towards the bucket as quickly as she can, her bladder bursting. All her concentration is on making it to the bucket before she pisses all over the floor. She can feel it start to leak out of her just as she reaches the bucket. By the time she’s squatting over the bucket she’s already pissing, the first little bit hitting the floor next to the bucket. The sound of her steady stream hitting the metal bucket fills the room, making her cringe. Her face burns with embarrassment.

She can feel the eyes of Bellamy and his friend on her, and she looks up. The friend is staring at her bare pussy as she pisses into the bucket, a sick smirk on his face. Clarke’s stomach lurches when she realises who he is. A former classmate of hers, John Murphy. She remembers he asked her out once. She thought he was joking and laughed in his face. After that he took every opportunity to say mean things to her or about her.

And now he’s watching her piss into a bucket naked, and he couldn’t look more delighted by it.

“This is my wife, by the way,” Bellamy says.

“Clarke Griffin,” Murphy sneers. “Fucking hell, Bellamy. How did you manage to land the princess as your wife?”

Bellamy shrugs. “It’s not like I wanted her. It’s been fun so far, though.”

“And she does whatever you say?”

“Yes.”

Clarke finishes peeing. She’s not allowed toilet paper so she has to let herself drip dry over the bucket, lest she get anymore urine on the floor. Murphy turns his attention back to Clarke.

“Look at those fucking tits,” he murmurs. “Those nipples. She’s a fucking specimen, isn’t she? Bet she’s got a nice tight pussy, the fucking little prude.”

Bellamy doesn’t answer, just stares at Clarke until she’s done. She then picks up the bucket and makes her way to the bathroom on her knees to pour her piss down the toilet and rinse the bucket in the shower.

She leaves the bucket in the bathroom, ready to retreat back to the bedroom and hide.

“Clarke,” Bellamy calls. Clarke flinches. “You missed the bucket. Come here and clean it up.”

Clarke crawls back to the couch. She can’t look at Murphy anymore, but she knows he’s looking at her, leering at her, thinking about fondling her tits sticking his cock in her pussy.

“Should I get the mop?” Clarke asks. Bellamy shakes his head. Clarke knew he would.

“Lick it up.”

Tears prick Clarke’s eyes. She looks down to the small puddle she made. It’s not very much at all really, barely the size of her palm. But she can’t do it. Can’t drink her own piss up off the floor. She hasn’t even disobeyed him and he’s punishing her, humiliating her in front of one of her old classmates. Murphy is relishing the whole thing way too much.

Clarke looks back to Bellamy, silently begging him to change his mind. He just gives her a pointed look.

“Do I have to ask you again?” he growls. Clarke shakes her head. She doesn’t want to know what happens if he has to ask again. Clarke lowers her head to the floor, trying not to breathe in the pungent smell of her own piss.

“Fuck, she’s actually going to do it,” Murphy laughs. Clarke wants to cry. She pokes her tongue out, squeezing her eyes shut, and starts lapping at the puddle on the floor. It burns, and she almost chokes on the taste of it. But she keeps drinking through the pain and humiliation of it, until the piss on the floor is replaced solely with her saliva.

She sits back on her calves, looking at Bellamy, tears in her eyes, the taste of her own piss on her tongue.

“How the fuck do you get her to do it?” Murphy asks, awed.

Bellamy smirks. “She likes it,” he says. “She gets off on it. I bet she’s wet right now, just from being humiliated like that.”

Clarke looks to the floor. She squeezes her thighs together. He’s right, she’s wet. Her cunt throbs.

“She lets you fuck her whenever?”

“She knows what happens if she doesn’t.”

Murphy laughs again. “Guess she’s not a prude after all. Always used to act like she was though.”

“No, she’s not. Why don’t you tell Murphy what you are, Clarke? Look at him when you say it.”

Clarke lifts her gaze to Murphy’s mocking eyes. He thinks all of this is funny, but she can tell he’s aroused by it too.

“I’m a slut,” she tells Murphy.

“No kidding,” Murphy snorts. Clarke averts her eyes again.

“You can have a turn on her if you want,” Bellamy says. Clarke whips her head up, eyes wide. He can’t mean it. Surely he doesn’t want to _share_ her. She’s _his_. His wife, his whore.

“Seriously?”

“Go for it,” Bellamy shrugs. “Do whatever you like to her, but don’t touch her ass. We have an agreement.”

“Fucking hell, Bellamy. This is the best birthday of my life.”

“Please, sir,” Clarke shakes her head. She can’t bear the thought of Murphy fucking her.

Bellamy glares at her. “You will do whatever Murphy tells you to do, got it, slut?”

Clarke nods.

“Should I call her slut too?”

“That’s what I think suits her best. But she also answers to whore, bitch, and cunt.”

Murphy licks his lips greedily. Clarke is sure he’s coming up with thousands of awful things he wants to do to her. Clarke shivers. Murphy reaches for her leash, lying on the floor, and he tugs on it, pulling her towards him. Clarke reluctantly complies, sitting at his feet. Murphy scoots forward on the couch, and with a couple of quick movements, he has his hard, white cock out. He’s not as big as Bellamy, which is a relief to Clarke. She was expecting to be repulsed by his cock, but she finds herself hungering for it. Does she really just crave any cock?

“Let’s start with you sucking my cock, whore,” Murphy grins lecherously. Clarke glances at Bellamy and he nods. She gets a little thrill knowing he’s going to be watching the whole thing. Maybe he’ll fuck her later and let her come.

Clarke lowers her head to Murphy’s cock, taking him into her mouth. It’s easy to fit his whole cock inside her mouth after having Bellamy’s monster cock shoved down her throat.

“Damn, she takes cock like a true whore.”

Clarke sucks Murphy’s cock, licking him, moaning like she’s enjoying her favourite meal. She wants to get this over with fast.

“Fuck,” Murphy groans. “She’s good. I didn’t think I’d come this fast but— oh fuck.” He thrusts into her mouth, spilling his seed onto her tongue. Clarke swallows his come quickly, not wanting to keep it in her mouth longer than necessary.

Murphy doesn’t put his cock away. He grabs her tits toughly, jiggling them with his hands, looking like a kid on Christmas. Clarke’s nipples harden under his touch.

“Always wanted to get my hands on these,” Murphy says. “And this.” He puts his hand between her legs, grabbing her pussy, shoving a couple of fingers into her slit. “Shit, you were right,” he says to Bellamy. “She’s wet as fuck.”

“Told you.”

Murphy turns back to Clarke. “You fucking slut,” he sneers. “Did you seriously get turned on from pissing in front of me? Or was it the licking up your own piss you liked the most?”

Clarke burns in shame. She can barely look at him.

“I want an answer,” Murphy says. “I want to know what turned you on the most. Your husband told you to obey me.” He tugs on her leash harshly, and Clarke winces.

“I—”

“Yes?”

“I liked all of it,” she whispers.

“Be specific.”

“I liked having to hold my piss. I liked having to ask to go. I liked pissing in front of you and almost pissing all over the floor. I liked being forced to drink my own piss.”

Murphy cackles. He’s having the time of his life, while Clarke sits there humiliated. Bellamy watches the whole exchange in silence.

Murphy’s cock is starting to get hard again as he plays with her pussy. Her juices coat his fingers, and he pulls them from between her legs and puts them in front of her face.

“Lick it off.”

Clarke licks at his fingers like a cat, almost grateful for the taste of her arousal over the taste of her urine and Murphy’s come. Murphy stands up, still letting his cock hang out, and he’s almost fully erect now.

“Get up on the couch,” Murphy orders, pulling on her leash. Clarke glares at him. He doesn’t have to fucking use the leash. She’s going to do what he says. Not because she wants to, but because Bellamy told her she has to.

Clarke crawls onto the couch, and Murphy shoves her down on her face, pulling her legs out so they hang over the edge of the couch. He slaps her ass, hard, and Clarke whimpers. She looks up. Bellamy is only an inch from her. His crotch is bulging. Knowing he’s getting turned on by this sends a surge of wetness between Clarke’s legs.

“I’m going to fuck you, slut,” Murphy says. “I’m going to rape your whore pussy.”

He doesn’t waste any time shoving his cock into her. No warning. Just climbs on top of her and then his cock is inside her.

“Fucking tight little pussy,” Murphy says. “Surprised Bellamy hasn’t loosened you up yet. Not that I’m complaining. Fuck.”

Murphy drives his cock into her hard and fast, his thrusts making Clarke slide up and down on the couch. It doesn’t feel good at all, and Clarke feels tears prick in her eyes.

“Remember when I asked you out?” Murphy says, his voice strained from fucking her. “And you fucking laughed in my face? This is payback, bitch. Who’s laughing now?”

He slaps her ass again, still fucking her while she flops around like a ragdoll. “God, you always thought you were so much better than everyone else. But you’re really just a desperate whore. I’m gonna come in your whore pussy.”

Murphy groans. He’s lasted longer than when she sucked his cock, but not much, and it seems like he’s going to blow his load soon. Clarke just wants it to be over.

“Does she come?” Murphy asks Bellamy.

“Only if I tell her she can. Only if she begs for it.”

“Fine by me. Don’t want her to enjoy this. Oh fuck, yeah,” he groans. Two seconds later he’s filling her pussy with his come, shuddering against her. Finally, it’s over.

He pulls out of her and gets off the couch. Clarke hopes Bellamy will tell her she can go to her room for the rest of the night. Instead he stands up, pushing Murphy out of the way. He pulls Clarke’s hips up so she’s on her knees and her ass is up in the air.

“My turn,” he says.

Clarke hears him undo his zipper. He slides his cock into her pussy, and she feels Murphy’s come squelching out around Bellamy’s dick. Fucking hell, he’s so much bigger than Murphy. His cock constantly feels like he’s stretching her, like he’s going to break her in half. Then he fucks her, harder than Murphy had. But this time, it feels good. Clarke meets him with every thrust, feeling her desperation to come growing. She moans wantonly, craving release. She almost asks him. Almost begs him to let her come. But then Murphy is waving his cock in front of her face, and then he fills her mouth with it, making it impossible to speak.

They fuck her from both ends. Two cocks pounding into her, using her for her holes like the slut she is. She loves it. She hates that she loves it, but it feels so good and she wants to come so bad. Murphy comes in her mouth again and it dribbles down her chin. Bellamy shoots a massive load into her cunt, and a mixture of his come and Murphy’s drips out of her in a huge glob onto the couch.

With both cocks out of her, Clarke feels empty, even though she’s full of come. They don’t give her much of a reprieve though. As soon as Murphy is hard again, he’s shoving his cock back into her dripping pussy. More come slops out of her. The sound of his cock in her sloppy pussy disgusts her, and yet turns her on. And then when he’s done, Bellamy’s cock is back in her cunt almost immediately.

They take turns on her for the rest of the night, filling her with come from both ends, and then when they’ve decided there’s too much come in her, they start coming on her body, on her ass, on her back, her stomach, her tits. Their stamina is incredible. Clarke lies in a defeated heap, absolutely covered in come, and they’re still fucking her. She’s lost count of how many times they’ve come.

Clarke, on the other hand, hasn’t come once. It’s easy not to when Murphy has his cock in her, but when it’s Bellamy, she has to concentrate so hard to make sure she doesn’t come without permission.

Finally, finally, Murphy leaves. Clarke lies on the couch, almost totally out of it. She’s not sure she can move. Bellamy sits on the couch next to her and pulls her into his lap. He’s naked, though she can’t remember when he took his clothes off. He puts his fingers into her come filled pussy.

“So messy,” he says. “Such a filthy slut. You’ll take any cock in you, won’t you?”

Clarke just whimpers, leaning against his hard chest, her head lolled back against his shoulder.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” Bellamy whispers. “We’ve only been married for two days and you’re already trained so well. Such a good whore, a good wife.”

Bellamy scoops come out of her pussy and feeds it to her with his fingers. Clarke sucks it off and swallows it.

“Do you want to come?”

“Please,” Clarke says, her voice sounding weak and pathetic. Even though she’s totally spent and covered in come, she needs it. Needs the release. Bellamy brings his fingers to her clit, massaging slowly, softly, then faster, then slowing down, then speeding up again. He’s so gentle with her, bringing her slowly to orgasm, like he actually cares about her. She knows he doesn’t. She wants him to. She craves his approval.

She comes, moaning, writhing against him, finally getting what she’s been yearning for.

“There you go,” he says. He sets her aside and gets up off the couch. The come from her back and ass and thighs has transferred onto his body. “I need to shower. You can sleep out here tonight, I don’t want the sheets to get come all over them. You can clean the couch in the morning.”

Clarke is too tired to argue.


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy can hardly believe how pliant Clarke has become in only a matter of days. She does whatever she’s told, whenever she’s told. They settle into a kind of routine. He fucks her in the morning, lets her use her bucket, then washes her in the shower. He goes to work. He gets home and the apartment is clean and she’s waiting in the bedroom for him, on her knees. She begs him to use the piss bucket, then she presents her pussy for fucking. She’s always wet. She likes being used, like being nothing but a toy for him to play with. He only wishes she would hurry up and beg him to fuck her ass. Or slip up so he has an excuse to punish her.

He wants to fuck her ass so badly. Every time she gets on her hands and knees he stares at the little pink rosebud, and he yearns to spread her cheeks and shove his cock into her tight little hole. He could, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She’d cry, and beg, and scream, but he could do it. But he promised he wouldn’t, and for some reason, he finds himself honouring that promise. Still, it doesn’t stop him from wishing she’d give him an excuse to show her how it feels to have a cock in her ass. Eventually, he gets that chance.

It takes her four days to realise her watch is missing. He gets home from his shift, and as soon as the door is shut behind him, she’s storming out of the bedroom, her eyes fiery, her lip curled in anger. He’s surprised, but not scared. It’s kind of hard to take her seriously when she’s naked with a collar around her neck. Not to mention she’s several inches shorter than him. Not exactly formidable.

“Where’s my watch?” she snaps.

Bellamy folds his arms. “I thought I told you not to question me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” she spits. Bellamy almost flinches. He really thought he’d extinguished that fire in her. “Give it back.”

“Too late, princess,” he smirks. “I sold it, along with your clothes. That’s where I got this pretty collar from.” He reaches out to tug on the collar. She slaps him. His cheek stings, and his heart pounds. It takes him a moment to recover from the shock. When he looks back at her, he wears an expression of pure rage. All the fight leaves Clarke’s eyes, and she shrinks back, knowing she’s crossed a line.

“Bellamy—Sir—” she starts. Bellamy grabs her by the throat.

“You just earned yourself an ass fucking, princess,” he snarls. Clarke’s eyes widen, panicked.

“Please—”

He drops his hand from her throat and grabs her by the hair instead. She shrieks as he drags her towards the bedroom by her hair.

“Sir, please,” she begs. She’s already crying. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—” He throws her onto the bed, face down. She tries to scramble away, but Bellamy grabs her before she can try and run. He grabs her leash from where it hangs on the bed post and uses is to bind her hands together, then ties her hands to the end of the bed. Tears stream down her face as she struggles against him.

“Don’t make me tie your ankles too,” Bellamy says.

“Please don’t fuck my ass,” Clarke sobs. Bellamy already has his pants down, his cock at full attention. “I need to use the bucket,” Clarke tells him.

“Then you should have asked instead of slapping me across the fucking face, you ungrateful slut,” Bellamy says. Clarke sobs harder. Bellamy climbs on top of her, dick in hand, stroking himself. He spreads her ass cheeks wide, his cock throbbing at the knowledge that it will be inside her very soon. Clarke presses herself into the mattress as if trying to evade his touch. He probes her asshole with his finger and she whines pathetically, squirming underneath him.

He pulls his finger from her hole, then slaps her ass cheek, hard. She squeals. Bellamy pushes his cock into her wet cunt.

“You’re fucking wet, slut,” he says. “Is that because you crave my cock in your ass?”

“No,” Clarke moans. “No, no, no.”

Bellamy pulls out of her pussy, cock slick with her arousal. He presses the tip of his cock against her asshole.

“Please. Please not my ass.”

He thrusts into her, pushing until his balls slap against her ass. She wails the whole time. She’s so fucking tight, her ass a vice around his cock, squeezing him so hard he thinks he might come right away. He manages to hold back.

“It hurts, it hurts,” Clarke whimpers.

“Good.” He pulls out. Slams into her again. She cries out. “You deserve this,” Bellamy says. “How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to have a big cock in your ass? You love it, don’t you, slut?”

“No,” Clarke whines. “It hurts.”

“I know it hurts.” Bellamy rolls his hips against her, feels her ass clench around him. Holy fuck, it feels so good. “You feel full, don’t you? Complete. Like you were born to have cock in your ass. And when it’s gone, you’ll feel so empty.” Clarke just whimpers.

Bellamy stays still for a moment, lulling her into a false sense of security. Her ass relaxes around him. Then he really starts fucking her. He hammers into her, thinking of nothing but the sweet clench of her ass around his cock, chasing release. His balls slap against her, and he can hear her whimpering and crying beneath him. The way he’s fucking her, she won’t be able to sit or walk for days.

He hears her sob, then feels a rush of liquid between her legs. At first, he thinks he’s actually made her come. But then it just keeps coming, and it isn’t long until the smell of urine reaches his nostrils. She fucking pissed herself.

“You’re disgusting,” he growls, with some effort. “Couldn’t even hold your piss in until I was done fucking you.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke whimpers.

“I know.”

He has to stop talking then, though he’d love to keep hurling degrading remarks at her. But he’s so close to coming, and all he can manage is a few grunts and then, “I’m gonna come in your asshole, whore.”

Clarke says nothing, resigned to her fate. He’s already taken her ass, made her piss herself. He imagines she thinks some come in her ass in nothing compared to that. He imagines she thinks he can’t do anything worse to her. She’s wrong.

He comes in her ass with a low groan, feels her ass cheeks clamp down around him, squeezing the come from him. When he’s done, he pulls his cock from her ass, trailing his come over her ass cheeks. Clarke lies there in her own piss, her hands bound, tears staining her pink cheeks.

“Learnt your lesson?” Bellamy asks.

“Yes, sir,” Clarke says, quiet and hoarse. Bellamy snorts. He wraps a hand around his cock and aims it at her back.

“Since you love piss so much,” he says. Then he lets go, a steady stream of urine pouring from his cock onto her back. She gasps, and Bellamy laughs. She bursts into a fresh round of sobs as he pisses on her. All over her back, her ass, her hair, like a dog marking its territory. He pisses on her until she’s covered in it, until he runs out of urine and he pulls up his pants and tucks his cock away. It runs off her skin and soaks the sheets beneath her.

“Don’t you make a pretty picture?” Bellamy says. “Covered in piss and full of come. Filthy whore. What are you?

“A filthy whore,” Clarke repeats dutifully.

“And what’s in your ass?”

“Your come.”

“And what are you covered in?”

“Your piss.”

“That’s right. Because I own you. And I get to do whatever I want to you, punish you however I want to. I hope your stupid fucking watch was worth it.” Bellamy gets up off the bed and unties her hands. Red welts mark her wrists where the leash dug into her skin. “I’m going to take a shower. Clean this up and I’ll let you have one too,” Bellamy says, then makes for the door.

“I want it back,” Clarke says, barely loud enough for him to hear. He turns back.

“What?”

“My watch. I want it back.”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything for a moment. “What’s so special about this fucking watch?” he asks. Why he asks, he couldn’t say. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care about her or what she wants. But he is curious to know what could possibly be so important that she forgot herself for long enough to slap him across the face. For her to still ask for it again now, even after everything he just did to her to show her where her place is.

“You don’t care.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” He goes to leave again.

“It was my dad’s. It’s the last thing I have left of him.”

Bellamy swears he almost feels something. Some kind of twinge in his chest, almost like he actually still has a heart in there somewhere. But in a flash, it’s gone, and Bellamy convinces himself he imagined it.

“Yeah? Well now you have nothing, just like the rest of us.”

He stalks out of the bedroom, slamming the metal door behind him.

 

-

 

Bellamy usually tries not to think while he’s at work. Unfortunately, the actual job itself doesn’t require much brain power, and his mind often wanders. Lately, he thinks about Clarke. He thinks about her sitting naked at home waiting for him. He thinks about fucking her ass, how good it felt to come in her asshole. He thinks about what happens next, how it’s going to end. He doesn’t like thinking about that.

His mopping is interrupted by someone tapping him on the shoulder. He turns to see Shumway standing there. Bellamy is sure his distaste for the man is written all over his face.

“What do you want?” Bellamy scowls.

“Jaha wants to see you.”

“Now? Why?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

Bellamy’s stomach drops. Maybe they’ve found out what he’s been doing to Clarke. But then, wouldn’t they just straight up arrest him? Why would Shumway just take him to see Jaha?

“Follow me,” Shumway says. Confused, Bellamy puts the mop back into the mop bucket and follows Shumway towards the Chancellor’s office. He feels sick. He doesn’t know why Jaha needs to see him, but he knows it can’t be good. Maybe it’s Octavia. Maybe something happened to her. Maybe they’ve decided not to wait until she turns eighteen, and just float her now instead.

They reach Jaha’s office and Shumway gestures for Bellamy to enter. He does so, and Shumway waits outside, closing the door behind him. Jaha is sitting behind his desk, hands folded, looking at Bellamy, scrutinising him.

“Bellamy Blake,” Jaha says.

“Chancellor,” Bellamy nods.

“Take a seat, son.”

Bellamy obeys, though he’s loath to do anything Jaha tells him to. “What’s going on?” Bellamy asks.

Jaha continues to watch Bellamy, a kind of twinkle in his eye. “You’re a lucky man, Mr Blake.”

Bellamy snorts out a laugh. He’s never felt lucky in his entire life. “How’s that, sir?”

“I’m surprised Clarke hasn’t told you. We’re reinstating you as a guard. No more cleaning the floor for you. Sorry it took so long. We had to make sure we had someone to take your place.”

“You’re… what?”

“It was in your marriage contract too, though I’m not surprised you didn’t read that.”

“My marriage contract? I don’t understand.”

“It was one of Clarke’s stipulations. That you were to be given your old position back.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, understanding dawning. “Couldn’t have the precious princess married to a janitor now, could we?” he says bitterly. Jaha looks taken aback.

“I thought you’d be happy. You can remain a janitor if you wish.”

“No. I’ll take the job. Wouldn’t want my wife to be embarrassed by me.”

Jaha shakes his head. “You are lucky, you know. She cares about you. She didn’t have to marry you.”

“What are you talking about? It was an _arranged marriage_.”

“I wanted her to marry Wells,” Jaha says. “She refused. Said people needed to marry outside their station. Said she was tired of the way the ark was run and she wanted to make life better for everyone. So we let her choose.”

Bellamy stares at Jaha, barely comprehending. “And… and she chose _me_?”

Jaha shrugs. “Don’t ask me why.” Bellamy can’t speak. She _chose_ to marry him. _Why_? She didn’t even know him before they were married. Sure, he knew who she was, had seen her around the ark. He never imagined _she_ might have noticed _him_.

“And your sister,” Jaha continues. “When she turns eighteen, she will be pardoned. We will find her a suitable match and she can move in next to you. Another of Clarke’s stipulations.”

This information is too much. He feels like he can’t breathe. None of it makes any sense. “I don’t get it,” Bellamy shakes his head. “She was locked up. Why did she get to make all these demands? Why didn’t you just float her?”

Jaha shakes his head. “Sometimes we realise we did the wrong thing after it’s far too late to change it. We have to make amends the only way we can, even if it will never be enough.” He falls into silence for a moment. Bellamy’s throat feels thick. The silence lasts so long he’s startled when Jaha speaks again. “You can go, Bellamy. Shumway will give you your uniform. You start tomorrow.”

After Shumway hands him a uniform, Bellamy walks back to his living quarters in a stupor. His conversation with Jaha plays over and over in his head. Clarke _chose_ to marry him. She made sure he got the job he was supposed to have, and that his sister would be okay. And she didn’t even _know_ him.

Guilt twists in his stomach. Did he misjudge her? He has a flash of what could have been, had he let himself get to know her, instead of raping her and turning her into his fuck pet.

He imagines coming home to his beautiful, loving wife after they’ve both had a long day at work. She smiles, kisses him, doesn’t shrink away from him. He makes love to her, properly, and she cries his name when she comes and they lie together in the blissful afterglow. He imagines them having Octavia over, watching old movies together. He imagines having a child with Clarke, that they both love and care for.

Is this what she imagined when she decided she wanted to marry him? Is that the life she envisioned for them? Has he taken this girl’s fire, her spirit, her desire to help people, to help _him,_ and crushed her under his boot? Is he a worse monster than he could have possibly imagined?

He reaches the apartment and heads straight to the bedroom, where Clarke is waiting obediently, on her knees, though he’s home hours early. Bellamy drops his uniform to the floor. Clarke follows it with her eyes, then looks back up at him. Bellamy studies her naked form, the collar around her neck. A mixture of guilt and desire pools in his stomach. Part of him wants to stop this, after what he learned today. Take the collar off, give her some clothes and her freedom back. Or at least talk to her. Ask her about it. But then that makes her even more human, and his cock is hard and she’s naked, her big blue eyes gazing up at him, and he’s remembering what it felt like to fuck her ass.

“Get on the bed,” he says. “On your hands and knees.”

Clarke scrambles to obey. With her ass on display like that, Bellamy has no second thoughts. He pulls his overalls down and his cock out. He gets up on the bed behind her and sinks his cock into her dripping cunt.

“What have you been thinking about?” Bellamy asks her. “I was thinking about how much I liked fucking your ass. How much I want to do it again. Is that what you were thinking about?”

Clarke hesitates. “Yes.”

“You want me to fuck your ass again, slut?” He pulls his cock out of her pussy and presses it against her asshole. She whimpers. “Well?”

“I—” He pushes into her, and she moans.

“Fuck,” Bellamy groans. It takes all his effort to push his cock into her tight asshole, but it’s worth it for the way she squeezes around him, desperate to have him inside of her and out of her at the same time. He knows she likes it, that she wants it. But he also knows she’s also humiliated by the fact that she enjoys having cock in her ass.

“Oh god,” Clarke groans. “It’s too big, it hurts. My ass. Oh god, my ass.”

Bellamy starts to fuck her ass, and her words turn into pathetic whimpering. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the feeling, tilting his head back, fucking into her at whatever pace he can muster. Her sounds reach his ears, morphing from whimpering into moans. She’s fucking enjoying it, like he knew she would.

“You gonna come?” Bellamy asks, his voice coming out more strangled than he intends. Clarke whines. “You can come if you want to. Come on, come with my cock in your ass. Show me how much you love having your ass fucked.”

His balls slap against her, the sound filling the room, along with Clarke’s desperate sounds. He’s pretty sure she’s trying not to come. He can feel her ass clenching around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth.

“Oh my god,” she moans. “Yes. Yes.” She cries out, and her ass grows even tighter around him as she comes.

“Fucking hell,” Bellamy groans, on the cusp of orgasm himself. “I knew you loved it, you filthy whore. Fuck. I’m gonna come in your ass.”

Clarke moans as he fills her ass with his come, holding her tightly against him, making sure he fills her up good. He sags as he finishes, letting his cock slip from her ass, a little bit of come going with it. Clarke collapses onto the bed.

“How does that feel, huh? Having my come in your ass?”

“Good,” Clarke whispers. Bellamy snorts. He gets up off the bed, intending to head to the bathroom. He spots the guard uniform on the floor by the door, and a wall of guilt hits him as he remembers everything Jaha told him earlier. His stomach churns and he feels as if he might throw up. He turns back to face Clarke, pulling his overalls up and tucking his cock away.

“Clarke,” he says softly. Clarke looks around, alarmed at having him use her name.

“I saw Jaha today. He made me a guard again.” Clarke nods, but she doesn’t say anything. “You had something to do with that.”

“It was in the marriage contract, sir,” she says.

“I know.” Bellamy swallows. He walks back towards the bed and sits down next to her. She eyes him warily.  “He said something else. Did you—did you choose to marry me?”

Clarke looks away, but not before Bellamy sees the tears in her eyes. “Yes, sir.” Bellamy cringes. His heart constricts.

“You don’t have to—you can speak freely for now. I won’t punish you.”

Clarke looks back to him, her eyes glistening, brimming with tears. “What do you want me to say?”

“Why did you pick me?”

“I—” she swallows. “I wanted to make someone’s life better. I heard about you and your sister. I didn’t think it was fair that you both got punished for something your mother did. And I thought I could make it right. And also…” she trails off, blushing.

“Also?”

“I—I saw you and I thought you were hot.”

Bellamy would laugh if he didn’t feel like crying. “And you organised for my sister to be pardoned.” Clarke nods. “I bet this isn’t how you thought our marriage would go.”

“No,” she whispers. “I thought you were good. I thought we could do good things together. I thought maybe… I thought maybe I could love you.”

Bellamy groans, rubbing his face. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He doesn’t want to feel guilty. He doesn’t want to _feel_. He wishes he didn’t know all this. He wishes he’d known it sooner. He wishes he didn’t feel so _angry_ all the time. He’s angry now. Not at her, this time. At Jaha, for telling him shit he didn’t want to know. At everyone who lets the ark go on like this, who is complicit in the way it’s run. At the world in general. And mostly at himself, for being the cruel monster his mother never wanted him to be. For wanting Clarke’s love, now that he knows she might have given it to him, even though he knows that even before he did such unspeakable things to her he never would have deserved it.

He doesn’t apologise. He can’t now. What would be the point? Plus, some horrible, sick part of him still believes he had to do it.  

“You should have told me,” he snaps, standing up. “You should have said all this the first day.”

Clarke swallows. Tears run down her cheeks. “I tried.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise if this ending isn't satisfying. Thank you for reading anyway.

The guilt eats at him, gnawing away at him, wearing him down, slowly but surely. He can’t bring himself to sleep in the bed with her that night, and he ends up sleeping on the couch. He can’t look at her without feeling sick to his stomach.

Yet he can’t let her go either. If he takes the collar off, gives her clothes and her freedom, who’s to say she wouldn’t take the chance and tell everyone about what he did to her? Maybe it would be worth the risk of him telling everyone the ark is dying. Maybe no one would believe him anyway, maybe they’d all feel too sorry about what he did to her to blame her.

He doesn’t know what to do. There’s no way to make it right now. No apology, no act of repentance, no matter how grand, can ever make up for what he’s done. He knows that. And even though he feels horribly guilty when he thinks about the things he’s done to her, it also still turns him on. He gets hard at the thought of her, naked and helpless as he fucks her, forcing her to orgasm.

Still, he avoids her. He doesn’t fuck her. She still obeys all his rules and he doesn’t tell her any different, but he doesn’t touch her or speak to her unless he has to, to give her her rations or let her use the bucket. He goes to work in his fancy new guard uniform and he comes home, leaving her shut up in the bedroom while he watches TV, and then he falls asleep on the couch.

He knows it can’t go on like this forever. He also knows the ark is running out of air. Maybe they’ll all just die in their sleep one night and he won’t ever have to face the consequences of his actions. But despite everything, he doesn’t want to die. Mostly because at the moment he feels that death would be too easy, that it would be a cop out, that he doesn’t deserve such mercy. But partly because he knows his sister is still alive, that she’s going to need him when she’s finally free. Then he remembers that’s all because of Clarke, and he feels awful all over again.

He doesn’t touch her for three days. He jerks off at night thinking about fucking her ass, but he doesn’t touch her. Part of him thinks he’s being ridiculous. After all, hasn’t he already done all the worst things he can think of, short of actually beating her? So what does it matter if he keeps fucking her now, raping her? He’s already irredeemable. Still, those thoughts are always followed by the sick feeling of regret, and though her soft, naked body is still just as enticing, he manages to abstain.

He comes home one night, walks to the bedroom and hands Clarke her rations without looking her in the eye. He retreats to the couch to eat his own rations.

“Sir?” Clarke calls from the bedroom. “May I use the bucket?”

“Yes,” he says tersely. He hears her crawl across the floor behind the couch and to the bathroom. When she’s done, he expects her to go straight back to the bedroom, as she’s done the previous few nights. Instead, he finds her on her knees in front of him, looking up at him uncertainly.

He swallows. “What do you want?” he asks.

“Sir?” she says hesitantly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Bellamy stares at her. “Wrong?”

“Are you punishing me for something?”

Bellamy frowns in confusion. Punishing her? He hasn’t even touched her for three days. He’s let her eat and piss when she needs to. Hasn’t fucked her or spanked her or left her tied up. He can’t fathom how he thinks he’s punishing her.

“What have I done that suggests I’m punishing you?”

Clarke’s face turns a pretty shade of pink. “Well—you’re ignoring me.”

Oh. _Oh._ Bellamy raises an eyebrow. His cock twitches. She doesn’t like being ignored. She’s wondering why he’s abandoned her, and she wants his attention, the needy little slut.

“You want to know why I haven’t fucked you lately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bellamy leans forward, giving a little tug on her collar. “Do you want me to fuck you, Clarke?” Her eyes widen. What is that, the second time he’s ever called her by her name? Her mouth opens, then she shuts it abruptly. “I would have thought you’d be happy. Don’t you hate me, Clarke, for what I’ve done to you?”

Tears well in her eyes. “I do,” she says.

“Yet you want me. Or you want cock, is it? Or you just want to come?” Clarke stays silent, eyes on the floor. Bellamy sighs and slouches back against the couch again. It’s not so fun to taunt her anymore. “I’m not going to fuck you,” he says.

“Please,” Clarke whispers. She looks up, meets his eyes. Bellamy’s heart stops for a moment. “Please fuck me.”

He wants to. He wants to grab her and pull her onto his lap and fuck her senseless. She’s fucking _begging_ him to, even though she despises him. And what’s the point in having this little slut at his beck and call if he’s not going to use her? And yet—

“I can’t,” he says, his voice quiet and husky. Almost like he’s holding back his own tears.

“It doesn’t change anything, you know,” Clarke says. “Stopping now won’t make up for what you’ve already done.”

“I know.”

 

-

 

He’s sitting on the couch the following night, Clarke in the bedroom, when someone knocks on the door. His first reaction is panic. Is it the guards come to do a random sweep of the apartment? Clarke’s mother? Jaha? He can’t think of a single person it could be that would mean good news for him. Then Murphy’s voice comes through the door.

“Hey, let us in!” Murphy yells. “I don’t want to be caught out here with this shit.”

Bellamy feels some sense of relief, but Murphy’s presence still doesn’t put him completely at ease. Especially if he’s brought something illegal with him. The last thing Bellamy needs is more attention on him. But he gets up off the couch and lets Murphy inside, along with two of his friends. He’s carrying a large flask, and Bellamy assumes that somehow Murphy got his hands on some moonshine.

“What are you doing here?” Bellamy asks.

“What, too good for me now that you’re a guard, is it?” Murphy snorts. “We just came to hang out. We brought some moonshine.” He takes a swig out of the flask before offering it to Bellamy. Bellamy shakes his head. Murphy shrugs. “Suit yourself. This shit cost me and arm and a leg anyway.”

“Who are your friends?” Bellamy looks at each of them in turn.

“This is Connor and Mbege. Connor just got out of detention. Thought we’d have a little party to celebrate.” Murphy’s eyes flick to the bedroom door. “Where’s your girl?”

“Asleep,” Bellamy says firmly. He crosses his arms and tenses his shoulders, trying to make his posture more threatening, daring Murphy to contradict him. Murphy doesn’t seem to notice. Must already be too drunk from the moonshine.

“Aw, come on, Bellamy,” Murphy says. “I promised my friends here a good time.”

“She’s not your good time.”

Murphy sneers. “What, you suddenly grow a conscience? Or you just don’t want to share her anymore?”

“Doesn’t matter. I think you should go.”

Murphy glances back at his friends. Bellamy gears himself up for a fight. He’s pretty sure he can take all three of them.

“Bellamy, if you don’t stand aside, I’m afraid I’m going to have to go to the authorities and tell them how you’ve locked up the ark’s little princess and raped her everyday for over a week now,” Murphy says.

Bellamy closes his eyes, swallowing. Fuck Murphy. Fuck the slimy little cockroach. Bellamy knows he isn’t bluffing. Maybe he should let Murphy report him. Maybe that one act of selflessness would be a step towards redemption. But then he remembers that there is no redemption for him. Making his decision, Bellamy steps to the side, shame filling him. Murphy grins, patting Bellamy on the chest as he walks past, followed by his friends.

“I knew you’d see reason,” Murphy chuckles. He opens the bedroom door, and Clarke is standing there, wrapped in the bedsheet. She must have heard the whole conversation. “Trying to act all modest now, are we?” Murphy says. “You can drop the act. Everyone here knows what a slut you are.”

Clarke looks up, past Murphy, meeting Bellamy’s eyes. Her lip trembles. He can see her silently asking him if he’s going to let them do this to her. Bellamy looks away.

“Bellamy,” she says softly. He aches. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Forget about him,” Murphy says. “I’m your master now.” Bellamy glances back over to see Murphy advancing towards her. She spits in his face. “You’re going to regret that,” he growls, wiping his face. “Boys, get her naked. Tie her up if you have to.” Murphy turns back towards Bellamy as Connor and Mbege grab Clarke, wrestling her to the bed and out of the bedsheet. “Bellamy, get in here,” Murphy says.

“I’ll just wait out here until you’re done.”

“I want you to watch.”

“No, thanks.”

“You want me to tell?” Seriously, fuck Murphy. Bellamy’s feet are heavy as he walks towards the bedroom.  “Let me get you a chair,” Murphy smirks. He brushes past Bellamy and returns a moment later with a chair, placing it in the corner of the room. He gestures for Bellamy to sit.

“Great view, right?” Murphy snickers. Connor and Mbege have Clarke pinned down on the bed, one of them holding her legs open, the other straddling her back. Her face is turned away from where Bellamy sits, which he’s relieved about.

“How are we going to do this?” Mbege asks. “All of us at once?”

Bellamy hears Clarke whimper. Murphy considers. He gestures for Mbege to get out of the way. Clarke tries to shut her legs, but Murphy is quick to stop her, gripping her by her calves and forcing her legs apart.

“I thought you said she likes this,” Connor says.

“She does,” Murphy says. “She also likes to pretend she doesn’t. Besides, what do you care?” Connor shrugs.  Murphy lets go of one of Clarke’s legs so he can push his fingers into her cunt. An evil smirk spreads across his face. “Feel for yourself how much she likes it.” Murphy pulls his fingers away and Bellamy can see them glistening with Clarke’s arousal. Bellamy feels a fierce surge of anger in his chest. Something that feels like jealousy, or possessiveness, or maybe even protectiveness.

Connor gets off of Clarke’s back and kneels on the bed beside her. He copies Murphy, pushing two fingers into Clarke’s pussy. “Damn, she’s wet,” Connor says.

“Told you she likes it.” He wriggles his fingers back into her next to Connor’s. They probe her wet pussy like she’s some science experiment, and not a human woman. “Alright, let’s give this cunt what it wants—a cock. I’ll go first, then Connor. Then Mbege.”

Connor nods, pulling his fingers from Clarke’s cunt.

“Flip her over,” Murphy says. “I want to see her tits while I fuck her.” He and Connor roll her over onto her back. Her head turns to face Bellamy, red and streaked with tears. That familiar knot of guilt forms in Bellamy’s stomach. Still, he does nothing. He does nothing except watch as Murphy shoves his cock into Clarke’s pussy and fucks her. Clarke lies there, eyes glazed over as Murphy pounds into her. It doesn’t take him long before he comes inside her, and then his cock is being replaced with Connor’s. Connor lasts even less time before he spurts his load into Clarke’s cunt. Bellamy watches it ooze out of her, before Mbege’s cock is filling her.

Bellamy watches the whole thing, and he hates himself, but his cock is hard and throbbing, desperately craving a piece of the action.

Mbege finishes inside her, and pulls out. More come trickles out of her and onto the bed underneath her. By the looks of things, Murphy and Connor are ready to go again.

“You know, I like the idea Mbege had before,” Murphy muses. He looks to Bellamy. “You take her ass yet? Wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

“No.”

Murphy raises an eyebrow. “Somehow I think you’re lying. Let’s ask the princess herself, shall we?” He turns to Clarke, grabbing Clarke’s face and turning it towards him. “Has your husband fucked your ass, slut?” Clarke’s eyes dart towards Bellamy. He shakes his head, just slightly. Murphy catches the exchange. “I’ll take that as a yes. Connor, get on the bed. This bitch is going to ride you.”

“No,” Clarke whines. “I’ve had enough.” Murphy slaps her, a wince escaping from her mouth. Bellamy flinches. Connor lies on the bed next to Clarke, his pants missing now, his cock erect again.

“There’s no need to hit her,” Bellamy snaps.

“Don’t act like you’ve got the moral high ground here, Bellamy,” Murphy says. “It’s your fault all of this is happening.” Bellamy can’t even argue. Murphy is right. “Now, princess, be a good little whore and hop on Connor’s dick. And then I’m going to take your ass.”

Clarke cries pathetically, crawling onto her hands and knees, then lowering herself onto Connor’s cock. Come leaks out of her and onto Connor’s crotch and thighs. Murphy glances at Mbege. “When you’re ready you can put it in her mouth.” Murphy kneels behind Clarke on the bed, shoving her body forward so he can access her ass. He doesn’t give her any warning before he pushes his cock into her ass. She moans in pain as Murphy’s cock fills her.

Bellamy feels sick to his stomach. He’s letting this happen. But not only that, he’s let it happen before. In his head he sees himself in Murphy’s position, violating the poor girl, degrading her, raping her. He really is the monster he always feared he’d become.

Bellamy closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch this. Doesn’t want to be reminded of what he did to her. With his eyes closed, the wet slapping sounds of Murphy and Connor fucking her seem to be amplified. Bellamy can hear her making noises too. Soft grunts. A moan. Panting. Bellamy opens his eyes, his gut churning. She’s fucking enjoying it.

Mbege joins the others on the bed, waving his cock in Clarke’s face. Her mouth is already open, and Mbege slips his cock between her lips easily. Bellamy watches as all three guys fuck her. Her tits bounce with every thrust. He can hear her whining, and he knows she’s close to coming. His cock throbs. Goddamn, she’s going to come with three cocks inside her. Stuffed full of cock and loving it. He feels like he shouldn’t find it hot, but he does.

He watches her thighs tremble, trying to hold back. She doesn’t want to come, but she’s going to anyway. That just turns him on more.

She moans around Mbege’s cock, stiffening as she comes, while the three men continue to fuck her. It’s too much for Connor, and he jerks up into her, coming again in her pussy. Murphy follows suit a moment later, filling her ass up with his come. They both stay put, keeping their cocks inside her while they wait for Mbege to finish. He comes in her mouth, pulling out too soon and letting come fall from her mouth and drip down her chin.

Mbege gets off the bed first, then Murphy. Connor rolls Clarke off him, getting to his feet.

“You done?” Bellamy growls. They’ve all fucked her twice. That’s enough. Murphy sneers at him.

“Annoyed we gave your wife an orgasm for you?”

“I’m annoyed you barged into my house and demanded to fuck my wife.”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I get it. You want us to leave you alone so you can fuck her yourself in private.” He looks to Connor and Mbege. “Fine. I think we’re done here, right boys?” The other two nod and Murphy turns back to Bellamy. “We should do this again some time,” he smirks, before leading the other two out of the apartment.

Bellamy doesn’t move for a moment. Then he gets up and goes to the bathroom. He gets a cloth, dampens it with warm water, and returns to the bedroom. He wipes the come and tears from her face first, steadfastly avoiding looking into her eyes, though he knows she’s watching him. He then brings the cloth between her legs and wipes the come from her thighs.

“It’s still inside me,” she whispers, and he can hear the shame in her voice. As if any of this is her fault. Bellamy finally meets her eyes, and she’s looking at him, looking sad and confused. Bellamy spreads her legs a little wider, then drops his head between them. He licks into her cunt, gathering the come the three men had left inside her, scooping it out of her and swallowing it. She comes again as he eats her out, softly, but he feels her tense, feels her come rush onto his tongue. Then he rolls her over and licks Murphy’s come out of her ass. When he’s done, he tucks her into bed, then makes to leave the room. He has this strange urge to hold her, but he knows he doesn’t deserve to, and that she probably doesn’t want him to anyway.

“I don’t understand you,” Clarke says as he walks away. He stops by the door.

“What is there to understand?”

“You let them do all that to me. And then you clean me up and tuck me into bed. You keep me naked and collared but you won’t touch me anymore.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“How’s it going to end, Bellamy?”

He hesitates. “I don’t know.”

 

-

 

He does know though. He’s got it figured out now.

He leaves the apartment early the next day, and goes to see Nygel. First, she tells him there is no possible way she can meet his demands. He has to use threats, but she comes around eventually. He goes back to the apartment. If Clarke is surprised to see him back so soon, she doesn’t show it.

He drops the clothes he’d gotten from Nygel on the bed. Clarke looks up at him, confused. He sits beside her on the bed, and undoes her collar, pulling it from her neck and putting it on the nightstand. She rubs her neck. He nods his head towards the clothes.

“For you,” he says. She eyes him warily, but she reaches for the clothes and pulls them on. It’s just a pair of pants and a shirt for now. But she can get more later. Bellamy stands up and unlocks the closet. “You can use my clothes too if you want.”

“Why?”

“I don’t need them.”

Clarke frowns at him. “What’s going on? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell everyone you raped me? That you’ll get floated?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “You don’t need to. I’m turning myself in.”

Clarke stares at him, barely comprehending. “No.”

Bellamy barks out a humourless laugh. “What do you mean, no?”

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to turn me into this, to destroy me, make me live with the memory of everything you did to me, while you get to take the easy way out.”

“It isn’t the easy way out!” Bellamy growls defensively. “Yes, maybe I can’t live with myself because of what I did to you. But this is the only way you can ever start to heal. I’ll fade into oblivion and you can go on with your life. Get back to normal somehow.”

Clarke shakes her head. She’s got tears in her eyes now. “What about your sister?”

“I’m a monster, Clarke. She’s better off without me.”

“You can’t leave me like this.” Her voice breaks.

“What do you mean?”

“I—” she shakes her head again. “I don’t know how to be anything else anymore,” she whispers. “I don’t know how to be anything other than your whore.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “That’s exactly why I have to do this. You’re resilient, Clarke. You’ll be fine without me. Better without me.”

Clarke’s lip trembles. He imagines the inner conflict she must be feeling. There must be some relief that he won’t be there to torment her any longer. Yet she still wants him. There’s the knowledge that he’s her rapist, her abuser. But he knows some part of her liked being treated like that, and to go back to having a normal sex life will be hard for her, if she can stomach any kind of sex life at all after this.

“I almost forgot,” he says, reaching for his wrist. He pulls the watch off and hands it to her. She bursts into tears.

“My dad’s watch.”

“Yeah.”

Clarke puts the watch on her wrist, staring at it for a few moments before looking back up to Bellamy. “You never apologised, you know.”

“For the watch?”

“For any of it.”

Bellamy shrugs. “What would be the point? Sorry doesn’t change anything. Can’t fix anything. What I did was too great for sorry.”

“But are you sorry?”

Bellamy swallows, studying her face as if for the first time. Those bright blue eyes, still full of fire, no matter how he tried to drown it out. The gentle curve of her lip, the beauty mark just above. She wants answers. Closure. He wants to give that to her.

“Immensely.”

“Then don’t do this. Live with your mistakes. Be better.”

Bellamy looks away. “I don’t know how to do that,” he says quietly. “How can we both get a fresh start when we’re locked up together in this slowly dying ship?”

Clarke chews her lip. “What if—what if we could have a fresh start? Somewhere else? What if we could forget all that’s happened—or learn from it, at least?”

“How? Where?”

“Earth.”

 

-

 

It turns out Clarke’s mom had told her once they were considering sending people down to Earth to see if it was survivable. The mission had never gone ahead, but now, with the ark getting closer and closer to collapse every day, it’s either that or just kill people outright. At least this way there’s a chance.

Bellamy still doesn’t really think he deserves it. But Clarke is right. If she has to live with what happened between them, then he should have to as well. Octavia is next to him on the drop ship. Clarke is on the other side, across the room. Other volunteers fill the rest of the dropship.

Bellamy doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they get to Earth. Whether they’ll even survive the land or the air that’s most likely still toxic. He doesn’t know what Clarke expects of him when they arrive. Is he to stay away from her? He wouldn’t blame her if that’s the case. He’s going to spend the rest of his life regretting what he did to her. But he’s taken her words to heart. He’s going to do better. Be better. He owes her that much, at least.


End file.
